Listen Closely to the Whispering
by cruel-tobe-kind
Summary: Drabble Fic? Fic Prompt. AU. High school wasn't the worst time in Bella's life- it was middle school.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first attempt at writing. Enough said. We'll see what happens._**  
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**Listen closely to the whispering**

When you're little there are just some situations that seem so insurmountable. Later in life you'll find easy coping mechanisms or facades that mask your inability to face a challenge, but when you're little… well, you just feel f-ed.

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Little Bella Swan makes her way over the trenches of snow that line the circular gravel road where school buses await to be filled. The air is bitingly cold and despite the scarf that masks half her face, it still feels painful to breathe.

The day is finally over.

Bella's having a hard time finding her footing, the once easily compactable snow has formed an icy exterior. "What do I need, mountain climbing equipment?" she mutters to herself after a couple of embarrassing attempts to conquer it. A day doesn't pass that Bella doesn't mentally berate the magnificent engineers of her dump-hole of a school. Who constructs a road specifically for school buses on top of a hill? No steps, no platform, no path, just resilient little children with no mind to demand for better.

Bella's had a rough day, not unlike the past couple of months, but at age 13 she's never had to deal with this constant pain in her chest and lump in her throat—loneliness. She used to have friends, great friends she had thought, but girls can't be trusted she realized, and now she has to deal with their absence.

Big heavy boots she's glad she decided to wear come in handy today. Fed up with the icy surface, she kicks into its shell and creates herself a little staircase of sorts. Her ingenuity tugs a smile to her face, and she happily climbs over to the top. Before jumping off, she turns to face her school and simply stands to take a look at her surroundings. It's an ugly school she observes, with teachers who don't care and kids that do. But not in the good way, no, she learned that the hard way. They care that their actions and words affect you; it's just not as fun to pick on those with self-esteem.

She startles at the sound of snow crunching under tires. This is the universal sound that any child who lives far away from home dreads—the school bus leaving without you.

Quickly leaping off and onto the road she quickly makes her way to the other side of the circle. She's too scared to walk through the buses: she's little, still 4'7, they could easily run her over if, not to jinx herself, she were to accidentally trip and fall between the vehicles. Instead she chooses the safer route, but still misses the patch of black ice that lies ahead. Bella's been caught in many an embarrassing situation, and she can remember each one with clear and vivid memory. This one is easily added to the inventory.

As soon as she felt it under her foot she knew she'd be unable to balance herself out. In a split second she was face first on the ground. Cold, icy, gravelly slush seeps through her pants and bites into her hands. Early that morning she had ignored her childish mittens that had been left for her at the door, instead she strutted around all day freezing her hands off, but looking mature, she at least thought. But as she lifts up her palms she scolds herself for her stupidity; scratched and bloodied, she can only rub the dirt off onto her puffy acrylic jacket and wait to sooth it at home.

No time for self-pity when your only ride is about to abandon you, she makes it back onto her feet without much obstacle. It isn't until a couple leaps forward that she notices anyone has witnessed her fall. A shout to her left momentarily catches her attention. Inside one of the buses is Edward Cullen. With the window shoved down and his arm pointing at her through the small slot, he screams the two most hilarious words that any cartoon has ever come up with to kick a person when they're down.

"A HA!"

"Very original," she mutters.

As she climbs onto the bus and moves her way through the aisle, the only seat available is next to a very pretty and popular group of girls. It is then that she has to remind herself that the day isn't over until you've made it onto home soil.

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><p>AN: <em>So yes, I don't really know what I'm doing, but this was therapeutic. <em>_My middle school days took place at the height The Simpsons popularity. __And yeah, middle school was a b- to get through, it still haunts me to this day._ _Nothing horrific ever happened, but still... girls both experience and react a bit too dramatically._


	2. Chapter 2

**Her reaction to such a reasonable request left him agog.**

Despite the bunch of losers Edward Cullen was forced to share all his classes with this year, things weren't going too badly for him, he often observed. Popular, charismatic, funny, wealthy, and good-looking—not to toot his own horn—he had fun causing trouble with his boys, and charming the ladies who he often caught staring on the sly.

Esme and Carlisle Cullen had enrolled their son in French-immersion at the early age of six. For the past eleven years he has shared all his classes with the same group of thirty-some kids. His parents were comfortable with all the children they have come to know over his life, but Edward could almost jump out of his skin in anticipation of high school. His parents, on the other hand, were troubled by his attitude.

Many new friendships had been formed in the past two years, and not one could be trusted. Esme had once tried to use her sixth sense parental intuition to feel out what kind of friends her son was associating with, but as she peered into the mischievous eyes of a thirteen year-old, all she was left with was the creepy feeling that the kid had been staring down her shirt the entire time.

One early winter's afternoon, three rows of desks aligned themselves down the middle of a Geography classroom, and there straight in the middle sat Edward, quietly awaiting Mme. Florent to begin her lesson. Amongst him students quietly talked and laughed, while he sat alone, not causing a disturbance for once, other students secretly noted. But Edward sat alone not because he had no friends, oh no, but because he reserved that privilege to only those worthy, and no one in his class was worth much of his time.

This year Edward was grouped into a split class of both grade 8 and 7 French-immersion students. He never really questioned the situation, but heated discussions amongst his parents sometimes gave him a glimpse into all the complexities of being an adult and dealing with government and taxes. The subject bored him to tears, so the two parents were often drowned out by fantasies of cute girls and big boobs, or cute girls that had yet to form boobs, but whom would be put on radar for future inspection.

In front of him a girl almost as obnoxious as himself was draped over a desk attempting to speak to another across the room. The view from the back wasn't a pleasant one, so he was thankful for when she finally sat down as her friend approached.

Even though he disliked almost everyone in his class, there were some exceptions. Jessica Stanley was the girl to his front, she was loud and a bit too crude for his liking, but she was fun. Her friend was Rosalie, she had shiny long dark hair, big plump lips and beautiful green eyes. These were the only two people he could have fun with; they were funny in a cruel sort of way.

"Get your things and just sit beside me," Jessica suggested after a handful of minutes of Rosalie just standing around talking.

Edward was excited about the possibility. Things could get interesting.

He watched as Rosalie moved back to her seat and pulled off all her belongings. Before moving back over to them, she halted and swung around for a brief second to say something to the friend she usually sat beside. Bella Swan was a nice girl, but quiet and shy. Edward had known her since he was eight-years-old. She was amongst the group of French-immersion girls whom he could classify as 'cool'. But this year, he could tell that something was off. Her and Rosalie had begun the school year as the only two members of their clique whom had been stuck into the randomness that was a split class, but as time went by Rosalie often chose to hang out with others, leaving Bella on her own.

His attention shifted focus back to Rosalie whom came marching back over with an expression of incredulity and surprise.

"Bella just called me a bitch!"

For the next ten minutes, even after Mme had began her lesson, Edward, Jessica, and Rosalie gleefully proceeded to mock and provoke a reaction out of Bella. Despite all their attempts, Bella sat like a stone, her back hunched over and her arms folded on top of her desk.

As the small group of children caused a raucous laughing at her expense, with dozens of other students waiting in anticipation for that breaking point of a spectacle they could talk about for days, Bella sat paralyzed. Grateful that she had chosen a seat at the front corner side of the classroom, looking out onto the snowy field, unbeknownst to anyone but the teacher, Bella sat with eyes so glassy, it was a miracle that no tears happen to fall or any soul receive the satisfaction of her embarrassment.

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><p>AN: <em>I'm still waiting for my first review. I don't much like these types of stories myself, but I don't know how to write anything else.<em>


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